Where Do Broken Hearts Go
by Juls112
Summary: RM Future Fic. Ryan and Marissa broke up before heading off to different parts of the country for college. What will happen when they both unexpectedly transfer to USC to start their junior years? Chapter 6 is up!
1. The Dream

**Where Do Broken Hearts Go**

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic ever, so feedback is much appreciated! Everything that happened on the real show so far also happened here, except that for this story, assume that Trey actually managed to rape Marissa that night on the beach. That'll come into play later on. For now, enjoy the beginning, and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the O.C. If I did, I'm convinced that I'd be a much happier person. Also, I don't own the lyrics to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah." Duh.

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**Chapter 1**

_Well I heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do ya?_

_Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth_

_The minor fall and the major lift_

_The baffled king composing hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

She stood before him in a red dress, the wind playing with the ends of her hair and pushing it gently off her shoulders. Her face was turned to the floor, and she seemed to be holding back, surrounded by an air of uncertainty. He knew the feeling. None of them were certain of anything anymore.

_Well your faith was strong but you needed proof_

_You saw her bathing on the roof_

_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya_

_And she tied you to her kitchen chair_

_She broke your throne and she cut your hair_

_And from your lips she drew the hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

He looked up at her and smiled, and she returned his small smile with one of her own. There were so many things he would never be able to give her, but a smile was not one of them. He stood and looked around at the finely dressed people dancing to the music, most of them unaware of the agony that he and she were going through.

"Wanna dance?"

She smiled again and took his hand, and he led her to the dance floor. He wasn't sure why he had asked her to dance; he only knew that, in retrospect, it seemed right.

_Well baby I've been here before_

_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor, you know_

_I used to live alone before I knew ya_

_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

_But love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

One of his hands was on the small of her back; the other grasped one of hers. They'd been this close before, but they both knew that this time was different. This time, he wasn't sure if she would ever be this close again; so close that he could see every beautiful freckle on her nose, so close that he could move forward an inch and kiss her lips, so close that he could breathe in her very essence. She took a deep breath and gathered up her courage to say what she knew she needed to.

"I just wanted you to know…I understand why you have to do this." Her voice was shaky and she was on the verge of tears, but she was determined to keep her composure until she had finished.

"Thanks." He was grateful she was telling him this, even if it didn't really make him feel any better.

"But I wish you didn't have to."

"Me too." He didn't think he had ever meant anything more than he meant those two words. He would have said more, but he didn't trust himself to elaborate. His voice was as unsteady as hers. Instead, he gave another sad smile. Considering what he was feeling inside, he had smiled a lot that day, with pictures and receptions and now this dancing, but none of the smiles was the product of true happiness.

She put her head to the side and leaned her cheek against his. As he meditated on the soft skin brushing against his face, he felt a breath in his ear. And then…

"I love you."

He wasn't smiling anymore. His expression changed to one of deep sorrow as he heaved a gigantic, heartbreaking sigh. She leaned her head against his shoulder and clung to him, the tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. Overwhelmed with emotion, he dealt with it by letting it drain from his face, so he appeared bored, almost dead. He certainly felt that way. The music was still playing, but their feet were barely moving as the rest of the world faded away. Nothing else existed in that moment but he and she, and their goodbye.

_Well there was a time when you let me know_

_What's really going on below_

_But now you never show that to me, do ya?_

_Well remember when I moved in you_

_And the holy dove was moving too_

_And every breath we drew was hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

The sun was setting as he closed the yellow door, and so closed the door on a family, a love and a lifestyle. As the car rolled out onto the street he glanced up and saw…her. Standing at the end of her driveway, where he had first met her, and where he was now leaving her. The car continued down the street, and light hit his eyes as he turned around to see her one last time. The sunset illuminated her hair, giving her body a glow that seemed to come from every part of her. He gazed until the limo pulled up to take her away to her new life, and he turned around to face the old life he thought he had escaped.

_Maybe there's a god above_

_But all I ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya_

_But it's not a cry that you hear at night_

_It's not somebody who's seen the light_

_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Halleluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuujah_

_Halleluuuuuujah_

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Ryan Atwood opened his eyes to see…nothing. Nothing but the black ceiling of an empty dorm room. Which was funny, because he could have sworn he had just been riding down a highway, staring at the ocean over the side of a cliff.

He sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, if it could even be called a dream. To label it a "dream" would be inaccurate, because dreams were usually characterized by illogical plotlines and vague images, and everything in this "dream" was as vivid as it had been when it really happened. Ryan decided it was more like a memory, except one that had made the journey from the conscious to the subconscious, and that liked to replay itself every now and then.

Ryan groaned. His thoughts sounded a bit like Seth, and he hadn't even seen Seth in…six months? He didn't know. It had been April, when he had returned home to California for Spring Break and the obligatory Passover celebration with The Nana. So that meant…four months or so. He would've seen Seth a lot sooner if he had gone home for the summer, like most college juniors-to-be, but he hadn't; instead, he had decided to stay in Boston, a city which, in Ryan's mind, didn't quite live up to its reputation as the "greatest college town in America." It wasn't that there weren't a lot of cool people his age in Boston – apparently one in every four Bostonians was also a collegian – it was just that, when it came down to it, they weren't people that he cared about. All the people that really mattered to him – Seth, Sandy, Kirsten, even Summer – were somewhere else, and that had significantly lessened Beantown's appeal. Come to think of it, he had no idea why he had spent his academic vacation taking extra classes in a city he was less than fond of. He'd had a perfectly good time relaxing in Newport with Seth the previous summer. What had been so different about this one, that he'd been discouraged to return to the comforts of home? The only thing he could think of was…

…Marissa. She hadn't been in Orange County last summer. She'd taken a supposedly educational cruise around the world offered by UNC, stopping to tan on every continent except Antarctica. According to Seth, who heard it from Summer, Jimmy and Julie had refused to foot the bill for another such expedition this year, so Marissa would be spending her entire summer in California. But he didn't honestly think that the prospect of seeing Marissa for the first time in two years had driven him to avoid going back. Right?

He remembered Seth's reaction when he had called and told him that he'd see him in September, not June. "Dude, are you crazy? You want to stay in Boston all by yourself, instead of sailing and skateboarding and going to multiple IMAX movies with me in Southern California? Are you sure that you're not going a little bit insane because you haven't seriously punched someone in a while?"

Ryan decided that Seth's explanation for his decision was better than the ones he had come up with.

Not that it mattered much now, anyway. Tomorrow, he was flying back to the West Coast – for good. Two years at Harvard had taught him that the Ivies were overrated, and a summer of self-imposed exile had only increased his desperation to go home and stay there. Seth's roommate at USC was rooming with someone else, so Ryan had taken the hint that fate had offered and was going to move in with Seth. Apparently, USC had a fairly reputable architecture program that suited Ryan's needs just fine; losing the Harvard name was a small concession to make when he considered that by transferring, he was making himself a whole lot happier. Besides, by the time he got back, Marissa would already be long gone to North Carolina to start her junior year, so he wouldn't have to worry about running into her for a while. If Marissa was the reason he had avoided Newport in the first place.

Still, the dream had cracked the lid on the box of feelings that he reserved for her, feelings he thought he had put away for good. In the back of his mind, a small part of him felt the familiar pang that came with missing someone. But he banished the thought almost as soon as it was formed. He missed a lot of people, but she was not one of them. Nor should she be.

Ryan glanced at the clock by his bedside and groaned again. It was 2:25 in the morning. He couldn't afford to lose this much sleep the night before he flew across the country. Determined to fall asleep and not to dream, especially not about _her_, Ryan closed his eyes and concentrated on the excitement he felt at finally going home and seeing everyone again.

But the last conscious thought he had before slipping into unconsciousness was not one of Seth, or the Pool House, or Sandy, or Kirsten, or USC. "Marissa," he mumbled, the corners of his mouth twisting slightly upward, "I wonder what she's doing right now."

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Marissa Cooper lay on her back, surveying the stars outside her window with her Share Bear tucked under her arm. She didn't know why, but something about nights when the moon was out and the sky was perfect made her miss…him. She smirked at her own cheesiness. She'd probably seen too many romantic movies. Or maybe she'd just watched _The Notebook_ one too many times.

Despite her efforts to gloss over it by poking fun at herself, the lonely feeling came back. And didn't go away. Two years hadn't been enough to make it go away for good, and moments that looked as if they were straight out of one of her romantic movies didn't help matters.

She reached across her bed to the drawer of her nightstand, but her hand paused on the handle. She knew she shouldn't. She knew it wouldn't achieve anything. One more glance at the sky, though, convinced her to pull the knob forward and to take out a wrinkled photograph. She sighed as the moonlight fell across a picture of a boy and a girl, smiling at each other and holding hands, with a ferris wheel lighting up the night behind them.


	2. Sewing and Secrets

A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed so far! I must warn you, though, not to expect frequent updates – even though school's winding down for the year, the amount of stuff that I still have to do is amazing. I anticipate updating, on average, every four or five days. If it goes beyond this self-created "deadline" and I haven't updated yet, you have the right to nag me about it. Until I pass that point, enjoy the second chapter! And please continue to R&R!

Disclaimer: I don't own Marissa, Summer, Seth, Ryan, or anyone else in the O.C. If I had to pick one to own, though, I would pick Ryan. (Who wouldn't? Look at those biceps!)

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**Chapter 2**

Marissa furrowed her brows in concentration as she guided the silky fabric under the needle. Sewing was relaxing. At first it had been awkward, frustrating and slightly annoying – she couldn't get the seams to go in a straight line or look remotely professional, and her fingers were afraid of the sharp point that threatened to pierce them with its rapid up-and-down motion. Gradually, though, she had come to love the steady rhythm that oversaw the whole process: the _hum _of the machine, the continual thrusting of the needle and the smooth motion of her hands all working together to produce a completely original piece of clothing to add to her growing collection.

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation. This latest one was going to be good. The mere _idea_ of the pink cocktail dress had prompted her to pull out a pen and start scribbling a sketch on her airplane napkin, and when she had finally sat back and surveyed her inspiration in two-dimensional form, a shiver had run up her spine. On paper, it looked like something you would see on a runway in Milan, or on the red carpet at some fancy Hollywood event. She could only imagine what modeling in Italy would be like…her heels clacking down a runway…cameras flashing everywhere…smiling and turning around so everyone could see the intricacy of her very own designs…

"COOP!"

Marissa was abruptly yanked out of her modeling fantasy and brought back to the reality of her apartment. She hastily flipped the switch on the machine and spun around to face Summer, who looked slightly irked.

"Sum! You…kinda scared me."

"Sorry. I only said your name, like, five times."

"Yeah, no, it's ok…I was kind of zoned out…anyway, what's up?"

Summer looked as if she were about to say something, then noticed for the first time that Marissa was sitting in front of a sewing machine. "Wait…you're going to do your sewing in here? I thought you would work on your line somewhere else on campus, like the fashion design building or something."

"No…at UNC I did all my work in my dorm room, but now that I'm living in an apartment, I have a lot more space, so this actually works out better for me. Is that going to be ok, though? I mean, I know the noise can get a little annoying."

"No, sure, it's fine! You just have to promise me that you'll make me a totally adorable top, and I will be cool with it."

Marissa grinned. There was a reason Summer was still her best friend. "I think I can manage that."

"So, anyway…" Summer began. "Do you want to eat soon? We could order something, hang out, watch old DVDs, you know…just have a girls' night before classes start and everything gets crazy again. I haven't had Chinese food in, like, forever."

"Uh, weren't we going to have dinner with Seth tonight?"

"Yeah, we were, but he – can't. Anymore. He…has to finish reading that one book for his English Lit class. You know Cohen. He's awesome at talking about what he's going to do and very bad at actually doing it." Summer laughed nervously and quickly fixed her gaze on something fascinating outside her window.

Summer was an aspiring actress who had been a big hit on local stages, but Marissa could still read through her demeanor to tell when something was up. "You know, it's kind of weird that I've been here for four days and I haven't seen him at all yet. Are you two okay? If something happened with you guys, you can tell me."

"Oh, no, we're totally fine! He's just got a lot of work to do, so I'm trying to give him his space until he can get everything done. And he's been helping his new roommate move in, so he's been kind of occupied with that, too."

Summer was still fidgeting, so Marissa knew that she hadn't told the entire truth. However, she decided that further questioning right then wasn't likely to produce any answers, and that irritating her best friend was not the greatest way to kick off their first year of living together. She'd bring it up later, but for the moment, she let it drop. "Ok then…Chinese sounds really good."

"Great! Which season of The Valley do you want to watch?"

Not a tough choice. "Ah…One. Definitely. I can't put my finger on it, but for some reason, that season was just…"

"Better? Yeah, I know what you mean." A beeping from Summer's purse interrupted their reminiscing. She pulled out her phone and stared at the screen, slightly taken aback. "Hey, Coop – I'm gonna take this out in the hallway. Can you order the food?"

"Yeah…sure." Marissa watched as Summer closed the door behind her. Something was definitely going on. She hoped to God it wasn't that Summer and Seth were fighting again. The last time they'd gotten in an argument, she'd picked up her phone to hear Summer in the middle of a full-out rant on the other end, and only by holding the phone a foot away from her ear had she been sure that she wouldn't sustain any considerable hearing loss. Summer went through stages when she and Seth fought: first she'd be pissed off and go into one of her rage blackouts; next, she'd be depressed and would cry that things weren't working as well as she wanted them to; and finally, she'd go into denial and walk around insisting that, Who needed a skinny little Jew who was in love with the sound of his own voice? Not her. She spent her time until she and Seth inevitably made up alternating between the last two stages, and driving Marissa slightly insane in the process. Not that Marissa's old coping mechanism of drowning herself in loneliness and vodka had been more effective, but at least it had kept her from transmitting her pain to her friends. And besides, she didn't really drink that much anymore. Having grown up in Newport Beach, the novelty of alcohol had worn off for her by the time she'd arrived at college; seeing people act like total assholes and throw up all over themselves was getting a little old. She had more important things to do. Like work toward becoming a big-time designer and a fashion icon. And worry about the state of her best friend's relationship.

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Summer closed the door behind her and began walking down the corridor in a whirl of anxiety. Why the HELL had she mentioned that Seth was getting a new roommate? Would it have been _that hard_ to come up with a lie that was just a little further from the truth? Obviously, she knew that Ryan and Marissa had to see each other eventually – she couldn't avoid her boyfriend for the rest of the semester for the sake of protecting her best friend from the knowledge that her ex was half a mile away, not 3,000. Marissa was already a little suspicious, and she was right. At some point, Marissa had to see Seth, which meant that she would soon thereafter discover Ryan. But that time didn't have to be now. And Summer fully intended to keep Ryan and Marissa separated for as long as possible.

She flipped open her phone. "Hey! Where are you?"

"The question is, where are YOU?"

"I'm coming out of my apartment building. What's going on?"

"Oh, ok, perfect. Now, close your eyes, and take 100 steps forward."

"Cohen! You dumbass! I have to cross the street! Do you want me to get hit by a football player driving his brand-new SUV? Not only would I be in the hospital, but I'd have to live with the stigma of giving Matt Leinart and co. bad publicity. Everyone would hate me."

"Fair point. But cross the street first, and then will you _promise_ to do what I tell you?"

Summer sighed and smiled as she reached the other pavement. Seth was probably about to do something cheesy and romantic, like he'd done a million times before. And yet somehow, the gestures thrilled her every time. "Ok, I'm across."

"Close your eyes for real this time, and keep walking forward until I tell you to stop."

"You better not walk me into a tree, Cohen, or I'll give you a bruise even worse than the one I gave you last week."

"You know, at this point, another bruise like that one is sounding pretty good. Considering we've barely been in the same room all week, let alone the same bed. But my thigh's feeling much better now, so if…"

"Cohen."

"Right. Anyway, your eyes aren't closed. You can't walk forward until your eyes are closed."

"Again, you are SO cheesy!" But Summer obeyed with a smile and began blindly strolling across the campus lawn with her phone held up to her ear.

"Ok…stop. Now turn about 90 degrees to your left, and walk until I say otherwise."

"Can I stop yet?"

"Not yet…wait…ok, now."

Summer opened her eyes to see Seth, sheepishly grinning and standing under a large oak tree with a cell phone in his left hand, a bouquet of a dozen red roses held out in his right. He snapped his phone shut as her smile grew wider and wider, until she was positively beaming. "Cohen…they're gorgeous!" she said in a small voice, before accepting them from him and meeting his lips with her own. _Heaven_, she thought. Moments like these reminded her why she had the most perfect boyfriend on the planet.

"There's something else in there…just a little back-to-school present," he said. Seth grinned again. He loved knowing that he could still delight her with the little things.

Summer peeked among the saffron-colored flowers and pulled out a few pieces of paper that had been poking out from behind the stems. "Death Cab tickets!"

"Yeah, they're for Friday night. I figured since I missed them last time they came to Newport, we could catch them now. They're playing at Troubadour in West Hollywood."

"This is going to be so cool!" Her giddy excitement faded, though, when she fanned the tickets out to find…four. Summer narrowed her eyes and looked up at her boyfriend suspiciously. "Cohen…four?"

"Ah, yes." Seth's face looked a little too innocent.

"So you, me, and…?"

Seth decided to answer her unasked question, rather than to beat around the bush for another five minutes. "Come on, Summer, we have to tell them. You know that they're gonna know eventually!"

"Yes, Seth, but "eventually" does not have to be right now!"

"Ok, so say we don't tell them. What happens if they run into each other on their own? It's a pretty big campus, but it's a possibility, and if that happens, won't they be more mad that we didn't tell them than they will be upset to find out that they're living in the same area code?"

"It's just…I kind of wanted to delay them meeting for as long as possible."

"Summer, it's not gonna work that way. I mean, Marissa can't spend the entire year never setting foot in my dorm room. And when she does, all she'll have to do is pull open a drawer filled with nothing but wife-beaters to know that he's here."

"Seth, it's just…they're both _happy_ right now! You remember what it was like when they broke up. It was bad. So bad that if you had told me then that they'd spend the next two years not speaking a single word to each other, I wouldn't have been surprised. They both came out of it really hurt. And I don't want them to start reliving everything again, and you know they will. He'll spend the rest of the year brooding, and she'll spend the rest of the year being depressed. It won't be good for anyone."

Seth almost couldn't handle her looking at him that way, pleading with her big brown eyes. But he knew he had a point to make somewhere. "You're right," he conceded. "No one said this was going to be easy. But you know you can't hide them from each other forever. Them meeting is pretty much inevitable right now. And, I don't know…maybe once they get over the initial shock, they'll be able to come to terms with everything and finally get over each other. That's something they need to do, and we're here to help them do it."

Summer let out a long, slow breath. Normally, when she knew she was defeated, she'd still try to fight back and would find something ridiculous to say to counter Seth's logic. This, however, was a little too serious for playful banter and verbal foreplay, so she caved. "Fine. I'll tell her soon."

"Good. Just –maybe not before tomorrow, you know, 'cause she's probably a little nervous about her first day, and doesn't need anything to add to her stress."

"Right. So, we have to promise to keep them apart for at least 24 more hours. Then we'll figure out a way to break it to them."

"I promise." Seth looked at Summer. Her face was still etched with lines of worry. He ran his hand through the back of her hair and touched her forehead to his lips, then put his arm around her to reassure her. "Everything's gonna work out. Don't worry."

She shook her head in resignation. "I can't help it. It's Ryan and Marissa."


	3. Collisions

A/N: Ok, so my respect for other fanfiction writers has increased tenfold just from doing the first two chapters. I'll spend a few hours writing, editing, and writing some more, and when I post, it's always like, "Wait, that's it? That much of the story took me _that long_ to write?" But I'd like to think that I only take so long because I am nothing if not a perfectionist, and I'd also like to think that all the great reviews you guys have been writing would not be so flattering were it not for that perfectionism. But anyway, here it is: (one of) the moments you've been waiting for, the Ryan/Marissa meeting! Enjoy Chapter 3, and please continue to R&R!

Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of the O.C. If I did, I'd devote an entire episode to just Captain Oats and Princess Sparkles. Hee. That would be awesome.

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**Chapter 3**

"Ryan."

Seth whispered Ryan's name over his sleeping figure. At least, Seth hoped that Ryan was sleeping. The way he was responding to Seth's attempts to arouse him, Seth wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he'd slipped into a coma overnight. Not that Seth blamed Ryan for enjoying his rest; waking up was hard to do.

Waking up Ryan was even harder.

Seth glanced at the clock on the desk. 9:40. Ryan had exactly twenty minutes before the start of his first class at USC, which meant that he was almost certainly going to be late. And even though Seth knew that being late was likely to put Ryan in a bad mood for the rest of the day, he was kind of looking forward to the entertainment of watching Ryan run around like chicken on steroids to get ready on time. It was going to be amusing, if he ever managed to get him out of bed in the first place.

"Ryan."

Ok, so verbal addresses apparently weren't going to do the trick. He needed a more drastic plan of action. Seth briefly considered rapidly pulling all of Ryan's covers away from him, but the thought of seeing Ryan in only boxer shorts stopped him.

One word: Awkward.

Seth took another minute to think. 9:41. There wasn't enough time to come up with anything more creative. Resigning himself to the possibility of bodily injury, he came to the conclusion that there was no other way; he had to shake Ryan awake.

Scrunching his face up and closing his eyes, Seth gripped Ryan's shoulders and gave them two hard tugs.

"GAAAAHHH!"

The upper half of Ryan's body swung upward and his head collided with Seth's, the impact of their skulls making a small _clock_ like two pool balls hitting each other. Seconds later, both boys were on the floor, clutching their foreheads.

"Jesus Christ, man! Is somebody just a _little _jumpy? And they call me the spastic one!" Seth's sarcasm was always in top form when he was in pain.

"At least having something very hard and very dense hit your head wasn't the first thing you felt all morning," Ryan replied groggily.

"Hey, I believe it was you who hit me, not the other way around."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you had chosen a less violent method of waking me up, I wouldn't have responded that way."

"Um, hello! Before I did that, you were as dead as the zombies in _The Mummy_! You know, before they all wake up again because of the curse."

"Somehow I don't think that's what really happened in _The Mummy._"

"So? The star of that movie is _Brendan Frasier_! Who gives a shit about it? Anyway, who appointed me your personal rooster? You know, Ryan, there's this really great new invention out. State-of-the-art. Completely revolutionizing the world as we know it. It's called an alarm clock."

"Seth, there's this really great new invention out. It's called a helmet."

"Ohhhhh, snap! Looks like I'm not the only one who needs one of those! By the way, going back to clocks and the time and things of that nature, it's 9:46."

"_What?_" Ryan opened his eyes for the first time that day to discover what Seth already knew: he was running late.

"Shit!"

It was a shame that the growing lump on Seth's forehead required most of his attention for the next ten minutes; from what he could see where he sat nursing his wound with a large bag of ice, Ryan Being Late was an even better show than he had anticipated. Clothes and other such items were flung everywhere, so that by the time Ryan stumbled out the door at 9:55, their dorm room was a jungle of cotton and denim. Not that Seth was going to bother cleaning it up.

Instead, Seth planned on sleeping until his 2:00 class. If Summer had her way with him that night, chances were he would need the extra rest.

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_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!_

Ryan had abandoned his dignity and had broken into an all-out sprint in a last-ditch effort to get to class on time. He ignored the occasional finger-pointing and laughter from other students as the West Campus whizzed by him in a blur. 9:58. Great. He was kicking off his undergraduate education in California by showing up to his first class five minutes late, panting and out of breath, with a welt the size of Texas plastered onto his forehead. That was sure to make him a lot of friends.

He maintained his speed as he flipped open the bag slung across his shoulder. He usually liked to make sure that he had all of his supplies before leaving his dorm, but on that morning, the fact that he had made it out his door with a shirt and a pair of jeans on had been a major accomplishment. Rummaging through his bag, he brushed aside notebooks, his laptop and an unbelievable number of writing utensils.

Double shit. Where was his cell? He could've sworn he'd put it in the bag last n-

BAM.

Ryan found himself on the ground for the second time that day, drowning in a sea of notebook paper and school supplies. Except that this time, instead of bopping Seth, he'd collided with an unknown female, who was already bent over, trying to salvage her belongings. Ryan quickly moved to help her.

"Here…I'm so sorry…are you OK? Let me help you with your stuff…"

He noticed that her hand, which had been working furiously to pick up papers, had suddenly frozen, and he looked up at her to see why. The first thing he saw was a pair of deep blue-green eyes staring back at him in unmistakable astonishment. Suddenly, his brain registered what he was seeing, and his mouth fell slightly open in shock. He'd know those eyes anywhere, even though he hadn't seen them in two years; without breaking eye contact, he could draw a perfect mental image of the rest of her features: the tiny, perfect nose, the heart-shaped face, the full, smooth lips. Ryan, never one for words, certainly didn't have it in him to say anything right then, and she wasn't talking, so they spent what seemed like an eternity simply staring at one another. Finally, she spoke.

"…Ryan?"

"Marissa? Wh-, wh-"

The word is _what_, Ryan. _What._

"Whatareyoudoinghere?"

"I'm…living with Summer, what are you doing here?"

"S-seth…with Seth…"

Speaking in full, coherent sentences would be wonderful.

"Wait…_you're_ Seth's new roommate?"

"Yeah. I…transferred."

"So…did…I…"

Their conversation seemed to be in slow motion, and everything took five times longer to say. Their mutual incredulity was reflected by the fact that they were both unwittingly inserting one-second pauses between every word.

"Seth…never…said…"

"Neither…did Summer…"

They both glanced around, as if they were searching for some explanation of what they were seeing, then looked back at each other. Again, Marissa was the one to initiate dialogue. Or at least an exchange of syllables.

"So…um, hi."

Ryan gave a slight nod. "Hi."

She checked her watch, then stood up, holding her books tightly to her chest. "You know what…I have to go – 10:30 class, but can you meet me at that bench over there at…12?"

He nodded again. Words were so far beyond him at this point.

"Ok…bye," she said, frowning and turning around to continue the way she had been walking before he'd run into her. Ryan remained on the pavement and watched her retreating back. Eventually, his blank mind stopped refusing admittance to any rational thoughts, and the full impact of what he had just seen hit him like a truck on the Autobahn. Marissa. Marissa was here! Not only was she here, but she was _going_ here! Marissa was going to USC! She had transferred! He had transferred! Surely Seth knew. If he'd had any _idea_ that _Marissa_ would be here…

Ryan sighed and laid his throbbing head back down on the sidewalk. Any thoughts of actually going to his first class had been abandoned long ago. Slowly, all the images and emotions he associated with Marissa came trickling back, flashing on the screen of his mind like pictures in a slide show. Protectiveness. Kiss. Pain. Jacket. Understanding. Ferris Wheel. Hold. Touch. Smile. Happiness. Gun. Rescue. Grief. Lies. Dance. Leaving. Together. L-

No. He was not going to let thoughts of love invade his head after seeing her for all of five minutes. Love was merely a name for all the things he'd enjoyed about her back in high school. In retrospect, his New Year's Eve declaration seemed a little naïve; he hadn't really been in love. He'd been delusional. So delusional that he'd wound up paying for it in the worst way.

Something inside him, though, knew that he was lying to himself in a pathetic attempt to keep Marissa Cooper from casting her spell over him once more. Although, it was probably too late for that; one look and one exchange had been all it'd taken for him to fall – hard – in the first place.

"_Who are you?"_

"_Whoever you want me to be."_

That instant had ignited a spark which had never gone out, though he'd tried pouring the emotional equivalent of the Atlantic Ocean over it. And now she was back in California, looking as gorgeous as ever.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.


	4. Memories and Meetings

A/N: Ok, ok, I know I haven't updated in, like, forever, but I have a good reason: my computer's hard drive failed about two weeks ago, and I have had virtually no internet access since then. Coincidentally, I was going to get a new laptop anyway though (all mine!), and now I have it, so there is little chance of a problem like this happening again. Sorry to keep you all hanging. So, after waiting for an unnecessarily long time, here it is: chapter 4! Enjoy, and R&R!

Disclaimer: I own _nothing_ in this story. _Nothing. _All rights to the lyrics to "After the Fall" belong to Journey and all of their associates. Or something like that.

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**Chapter 4**

Ryan closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the bench, the midday sun peeking through the leaves of the giant sycamore tree above him. His hands absentmindedly pounded out the rhythm to Journey's "After the Fall" against the hard wooden seat, accompanying the music playing in the jukebox of his mind.

_So now love is gone_

_I can't go on_

_Love is gone_

_I want to say_

_Now it's just too late_

_Waited far too long_

_Should have told you then I knew_

_Should have told you right_

_From the start_

_But the words didn't come out right_

_So I'll tell you_

_Straight from my heart_

_You meant more to me_

_Than I let you see_

_You held on somehow_

_All your tenderness_

_And your sweet caress_

_I need you now_

Ryan's thoughts drifted to the drum he'd gotten for Christmas when he was eight. He had spent most of that year loving everything about rock music; he used to sit outside on the sidewalk, rapping two sticks against the cement, imitating the drummers of bands like Guns N' Roses, AC/DC, and, of course, Journey.

The Christmas gift had been a complete surprise. Earlier, Ryan had tentatively asked his mother for a drum, and she had flat-out refused - they didn't have enough money, and he felt slightly foolish for asking. Upon coming out of his room the morning of December 25th and seeing a beautiful new snare drum underneath their tree, he stammered thanks to his parents (his dad still lived with them then, as he hadn't yet landed himself in jail at that point) and vowed to keep the drum in good condition for as long as possible.

Five days later, Trey put his foot through the drum in the middle of a tantrum directed at their father.

Though he was crushed, the experience taught Ryan an important lesson: Sometimes it's better not to get what you want, because then you don't have anything to lose.

_Buy a headstrong stubborn man_

_Only works it out the_

_Best he can_

_Valentines he never sent_

_There's not enough time_

_He's a workin' man_

_Can't stop fallin'_

_Heartache's callin'_

_Finds you after the fall_

_Saints or sinners_

_Take no prisoners_

_What's left after you fall?_

_No not much, no_

12:10 P.M. Marissa was late. With a tinge of worry, Ryan sincerely hoped that she was actually coming. He reassured himself that she _had_ asked to meet him there. But what if she chickened out? What if she decided that she couldn't even handle having a mundane conversation with him? What if she deserted him again?

Before he could stop it, his memory rewound itself two years and ten days.

_He was laying on the poolhouse bed in the dark. The only light came from the glow of the Cohens' kitchen and the lamps above their back patio._

_He was worried about Marissa. She hadn't called him in a few days, and she wouldn't return any of his calls. It didn't fit with the policy of completely open, honest communication they had agreed on after Trey died. Trusting each other and talking was the only way they'd been able to make it through all that. They had both been determined not to let anything else come between them, no matter how great. And they' d done it. They'd gotten through it. Together. He was proud of the fact that they were still a couple, when so many others in their position would have given up. And for the first time in a long time, he found himself opening up enough to really let another person into his life. He was learning what it was like to be vulnerable, and he didn't mind the feeling as much as he'd thought he would._

_A knock came on the glass of the poolhouse door, and Marissa entered before he had the chance to respond._

_He quickly pushed himself off the bed and stood to greet her with a "Hey…", before trailing off at her appearance._

_Even in the dim light she looked like a mess. She was wearing a pair of rumpled jeans and ordinary flip-flops. Her t-shirt was wrinkled and covered in smudges of what looked like black makeup, and her tangled hair was piled unceremoniously on the top of her head. Dark circles stood out against the large red blotches under her eyes. Her entire body was shaking, on the verge of bursting out into hysterical tears._

"_What's wrong?" he asked, moving to comfort her._

_She didn't answer; instead, she surprised him by taking a step back, away from him. He had gotten used to holding her when she was upset, and the fact that she didn't seem to want that now told him that something was horribly wrong._

_She took a few deep, ragged breaths before finally speaking._

"_I can't do this anymore, Ryan."_

_The words slapped him in the face and left him momentarily stunned. He studied her for a moment before speaking. She avoided his eyes, her lower lip trembling and her shoulders gently heaving in misery._

"_Wh-what are you talking about? Please tell me what's wrong. We'll get through it together -" _

"_-No, we won't!" she interrupted, flinging his compassion back in his face._

_At that moment, he knew that she was about to cause him more pain than he had ever experienced in his entire life. He rose to her bait, though, like a cancer patient who knows deep down what the doctor is going to tell him, but needs to hear it confirmed out loud anyway._

"_Why?"_

_She hesitated, the tears forming under her lashes, and sucked in another great breath before blurting it out._

"_I've been seeing someone else."_

_He stared blankly at her for what seemed like an eternity, desperately trying to convince himself that he hadn't really heard what he thought he had just heard. Marissa…_his_ Marissa…_his _Marissa had _cheated_ on him…_

_She continued on, to fill the silence. His ear only caught crucial bits and pieces of what she was telling him._

"…_he goes to a different school…you don't know him…I met him over Spring Break that one night when you went out for a guy's night with Seth…I'm so sorry…I'm not seeing him anymore…I can't keep doing this to you…we're both going away to college next week…best thing is to start over…"_

_He didn't answer her; he merely continued staring at her in disbelief. His entire body, including his vocal chords, seemed to have gone numb._

_She finally met his eyes, and he could see her visibly register the betrayal in his before saying one final thing._

"_I'm leaving for North Carolina on Saturday. Don't try to contact me."_

_She turned from him and reached for the door, the tears pouring down her face and onto her already-dirty shirt. He watched her walk out of his poolhouse and out of his life for the last time as if he were in a dream. Only he was certain he wasn't dreaming. If he were dreaming, he wouldn't feel the pain swelling up inside his chest as it did now, leaving a large, empty hole that would never be filled again._

The sound of his cell phone ringing jerked Ryan back to the present. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the tiny screen, telling him he had a call from Seth. He smiled wryly, shook his head and returned it to his jeans. He was in no mood to talk to Seth right then, as he was almost positive that Seth had known about Marissa being there but had purposely left him uninformed. There was no way that Summer hadn't told Seth about Marissa. As much as Summer complained that Seth couldn't keep a secret, she wasn't that great at keeping them, either.

12:15. Ryan decided to give Marissa five more minutes, then head back to his dorm to give Seth a good punch in the gut.

_Can't stop fallin'_

_Heartache's callin'_

_Finds you after the fall_

_Saints or sinners_

_Take no prisoners_

_What's left after you fall?_

_No, not much, no_

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Marissa glanced at the clock above the door, nervously twitching her pen in her right hand. Class should have been over ten minutes ago! For a moment, she vaguely wondered why so many college professors thought that students would rather listen to them drone on and on past the bell than go and get a sandwich, or play some Frisbee on the lawn. She couldn't skip out early on this lecture, though. It was her first-ever class at USC, and where teachers were concerned, she firmly believed in the "first impressions are lasting impressions" mantra.

The first impression she was giving that day, though, was distracted at best. She had spent most of the period shifting uncomfortably in her seat, fidgeting with her jewelry and her hair and letting Professor Jenkins's talk on twentieth-century French literature wander into her left ear and slide out her right.

Okay, she admitted it, she was completely preoccupied. But how the _hell_ was she supposed to pay attention, when _Ryan Atwood_ was, at that very moment, waiting for her on a bench right across the campus lawn? The same Ryan Atwood whom she had been in love with forever. The same Ryan Atwood she would still be in love with, had it not been for her unbelievable self-sacrifice and the fact that she had transformed herself into a strong and independent woman with the ability to move on. She had been devastated back then, sure, but she had picked up the pieces, and she had started a new chapter of her life. Now Ryan had suddenly been thrown back into the picture, bringing infinite memories of the old life she had wanted behind her.

Her ears perked up as the professor wound down his speech. He had barely finished announcing the homework when Marissa scrambled out the door, her instincts overriding any practicality. She began running out onto the lawn, before considering that appearing out-of-breath and overanxious was not the way she wanted Ryan to see her after their long separation. She closed her eyes and concentrated on using all of her willpower to walk calmly and confidently up to him, like this was no big deal.

She was doing a pretty good job with the "cool and confident" thing until she got near enough to see him properly. She had participated in their earlier exchange in a mild state of shock, so she hadn't taken much notice of his appearance, or his demeanor. She'd simply been trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was there.

She had time to notice him now, though, and what she saw made her slow her walk almost to a halt.

He was leaning comfortably against the back of his seat, wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt that hugged the outline of his chest and gave a glimpse of his well-defined abs. His sculpted arms were draped across the top of the bench, his articulate fingers drumming against the wood. His face shone with the filtered sunlight from the leaves above him. He looked exactly the way she remembered him. Only better.

Suddenly, she wished she were anyone but Marissa Cooper. Anyone else could casually walk up to him, sit down and strike up an innocent conversation, without all the weight of a lifetime's worth of words, feelings and actions hanging between them. Anyone else could simply enjoy being with him. She realized sadly that she no longer had that luxury.

Instead of approaching him, she stole behind a nearby tree and watched him from her hiding place. She admired the way a breeze rippled his sandy blonde hair. She memorized the subtle movements of his body: tipping his head down, raising it back up again to stare moodily off into space, adjusting his shoulders. His cell phone rang, and she almost melted at the sight of his lips turned up into an ironic smile. She silently wished that she could stay behind the tree, absorbing him this way forever.

He checked his watch, then stood to leave, thrusting her into a mild state of panic. He couldn't leave. After being away from him for so long, she felt an inexplicable, overwhelming urge to be near him for just a little bit longer. The independent side of her was completely exasperated. This was not the behavior of someone who was strong and self-sufficient! But another part of her told that part to shut up. Her emotions had temporarily seized the reins, and were refusing to yield any control to level-headedness.

Teetering on the edge of a decision, she finally made one when she realized that his retreating back was already halfway across the lawn. She secured her bag over her shoulder and jogged to catch up with him, startling him as she panted his name from behind.

_So much for not appearing out-of-breath._ He seemed surprised, but stopped to let her catch her breath before saying anything else.

"Hey! I'm so sorry…my French lecture went late, and I didn't really want to risk walking out of my first class here."

"French?" They started walking together in the direction Ryan had initially been heading.

"Yeah, I'm majoring in fashion design, minoring in French."

"Ah." He nodded his head slightly, and they walked in silence for a moment. "I wanted to apologize for kind of running you over this morning."

"Oh, no, that's ok."

"You sure? 'Cause I'm pretty certain that I scattered some of your stuff from here to the Pacific Ocean."

"Seriously, it was fine."

Another pause.

"So," she began, taking the conversation into her own hands, "you're…at USC now. What happened to Boston? Harvard?"

"Actually, it…wasn't so great." He kept his head tilted down, not really looking at her.

"But I mean, isn't Boston supposed to be this great college town?"

"Yeah, it is, but…" he shook his head slightly. "It didn't really do it for me."

"So you came home?"

"Came home."

"Same here, I guess," she admitted.

"What? You didn't like UNC?"

"No, I did, it's just…it never felt like home to me. And being here…I don't know…does. When I was there, I missed people."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

He lifted his head to look at her, and their eyes met for a second, sending tiny shivers down her spine. He directed his attention back in front of him, and stopped.

"This is my dorm," he said, pointing at the handsome brick building with a gold plaque that read "Parkside Suites" above the arches of its entrance.

"Oh - well, I should probably get going then. I promised Summer I'd meet her for lunch." She was half relieved, and half disappointed that their interaction had ended here. She hadn't really wanted to stop being near him, but the conversation up to that point had been carefully casual, and they had just begun to tread on some very dangerous ground. It was ground she knew they would have to cover if they were both living there now, but not ground she felt like braving in her first fifteen minutes of seeing him again.

He was about to go inside when she instinctively stepped forward to give him a small and awkward hug. As was par for the course that day, he was briefly taken aback, but reciprocated to the best of his ability. She savored the transitory feeling of his arms embracing her.

She moved back shyly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "I've gotta go, so…I'll see you later, ok?"

"Ok," he replied, his expression revealing no hint of his emotions.

She was about to walk away when she thought of something else. "And Ryan?" she called after him.

He turned back around.

"…It's really good to see you." She smiled at him, a real, genuine smile.

"You too," he said, giving her a small smile back.


	5. Confessions

A/N: I know after the last chapter, a lot of you probably have some questions about what really happened in the past, and stuff like that. All I can tell you at this point is: Don't worry. I am a HUGE RM fan, so keep that in mind. Trust me, I know what I'm doing with this. Eventually all your questions will be answered, and you will know all the background info you need to know. Until then, bear with me as I gradually and strategically release the details to you, and sit back, relax, and enjoy Chapter 5. Oh, and please R&R.

Disclaimer: I now own something in this story: Astrid! Woo-hoo! But I don't own anything else. Still, though, blatant copying of my general storyline is not appreciated.

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**Chapter 5**

_Mmmmmm._

Seth was lying on his bed in his dorm room with a _very_ hungry Summer on top of him. And not hungry in the food sense, but –

_Ohhhhhhh._

Summer was giving new meaning to the phrase "attacking with her lips."She had burst into Seth's dorm room about five minutes ago, and upon seeing that he was alone, she'd jumped on him with the ferocity of a tiger attacking its prey. Of course, given the state of the wound on his head, he'd made the obligatory protest that he wasn't feeling all that well. She'd shoved her tongue down his throat in response, and that was all he'd needed for any thoughts of resistance to instantly evaporate.

There was _nothing_ sexier than a woman who wanted to devour him whole.

Currently, she was sucking on his face with the force of a vacuum cleaner, moving from his lips to his cheeks to his chin to his neck, all the while fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He didn't bother trying to do much on his own, besides, you know, digging his hands into the skin of her back. There were times when Summer Roberts liked nothing better than to take total control, and when that happened, he was more than happy to let her. He had a suspicion this was one of those times.

"Cohen?" She pulled her mouth off him for the first time that day. "Is Ryan around anywhere?"

Seth shook his head and managed a "No…well, not that I know of, he's sup–"

"Good." She kissed him again, and he forgot about doing anything but trying to pull her shirt up over her head.

Summer was down to her bra and her shorts, and Seth was shirtless, when Ryan flung the door opened and stomped into the room, ready for some ass-kicking. Or at least some serious verbal confrontation.

"Omigod!" Summer squealed, rolling off Seth and onto the floor with a _thump_.

Seth gave Ryan his best "What the hell, man?" face, and Ryan, looking appropriately embarrassed, retreated to the hallway and closed the door behind him.

"You guys better get your clothes on soon, because I'm coming back into _my_ room in two minutes, whether or not you guys are dressed," Ryan notified them from the other side of the door.

Seth snickered at Ryan's attempt at asserting himself. Yeah, right. Like Ryan would really want to see _that._

Summer, on the other hand, was wearing an expression of extreme exasperation. She groaned as she crawled to her top, which had somehow landed across the room on Ryan's shelf.

"_Co-hen!"_ she whined, giving him a look that stated very clearly, _We were supposed to have sex NOW!_

"What? You think I purposefully planned for Ryan to walk in on us when we were about to have sex for the first time in ten days?"

"Eleven," she corrected.

"Whatever. Too long."

Summer narrowed her eyes at him. "Tonight. My apartment. No excuses."

Seth held up his hands in resignation. "No arguing here. But what about Marissa? Are you planning on telling her to just sleep facing the other way and turn her headphones up really loud?"

"No, you dumbass. We have an apartment this year. With two rooms. Marissa can crash on the couch. But -" she gasped, then groaned again. "Oh my God! Marissa! I told her I'd meet her for lunch, like, half an hour ago! It's her first day here, and I left her alone! I'm such a bad friend!" She looked as Seth, as if she were waiting for him to reassure her that, Of course she wasn't a bad friend. Instead, he shifted the focus back to himself.

"Well, you are still an excellent girlfriend."

She smiled through her pout, and rewarded his adorable compliment with a kiss. Right at that moment, Ryan decided that their two-minute deadline had expired, and re-entered the room. Summer quickly pulled back and yanked her shirt down over her stomach.

"Okay, well, I've gotta get going, so bye guys!" Summer grabbed her purse and hurried out the door, leaving Seth with a less-than-amused Ryan.

"Where'd she have to go?" Ryan's question was casual, but something in his expression was freaking Seth out a little. Seth decided that Ryan was probably just a little pissed off that he, Seth, was Getting Some on a regular basis, while he, Ryan, was not.

"She's meeting a friend for lunch."

"What's her friend's name?"

Seth did not like the direction of this conversation at all. "Um…I don't know, I don't think she really said…"

"It wouldn't happen to be _Marissa_, would it?" Ryan's eyes were flashing dangerously and his voice had an unusual edge to it. Seth was so busted. But, on the off chance that Ryan was still in the dark about the whole 'Marissa' thing, Seth decided to play the fool.

"I wouldn't know. She just told me she was having lunch with one of her friends."

"It is Marissa."

Seth stared at Ryan. Either Ryan had acquired some serious telepathic powers on the East Coast, or…

"I ran into Marissa today," Ryan confirmed, shooting Seth an accusatory look.

Seth, as he often did under pressure, responded by sputtering. "You – you did?"

"And when I say 'ran into her,' I really mean 'ran into her.' I knocked her over on my way to class."

Seth remained silent. He didn't have a lawyer father for nothing. _Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law._

Ryan shook his head. "When were you going to tell me, man?"

"Soon." Okay, so remaining silent wasn't really Seth's thing. "Summer and I just thought it would be better for you and Marissa to settle in a little bit before we told you. I mean, let's face it: if I'd told you before you registered and everything, you probably wouldn't have come in the first place."

"I am not afraid of being around Marissa," Ryan said defensively.

"Yeah?" Seth shot back. "Then why didn't you come home this summer?"

"Because I wanted to take some extra classes to finish up my major sooner."

"But you hated it there."

"Yeah, so I transferred here."

"And I'm glad that you did. And I didn't want you to reverse that decision just because of your ex-girlfriend. I've kind of missed seeing my brother more than twice a year. There was a reason that Newport became a lot more tolerable after you got there."

Ryan sighed. Playing the "brothers" card always softened him up a bit. "You still waited too long to tell me, Seth."

"Well, I wouldn't have waited past Friday night."

Seth took note of Ryan's puzzled expression, and he whipped the tickets out of his pocket for Ryan to see. "Four tickets to see Death Cab at Troubadour. Summer plans on inviting her best friend, and I planned on inviting my brother."

"I don't know, Seth. I'm not really into live music so much."

"No. Dude, you're coming. Summer and I are not spending the entire year picking either you or Marissa to stay home while the rest of us go out and have fun. You two are gonna have to be around each other some of the time. Might as well start on Friday."

Ryan sighed again and plopped down onto his bed. "Fine. But if it sucks, I am never coming to another concert with you."

"Yes you are."

They both spent about a minute staring off into space. Well, Seth was daydreaming of Summer and her plans for him that night; he could take a pretty good guess as to what, or who, Ryan was thinking about.

"Hey, Ryan?"

Ryan snapped out of his trance and focused on Seth.

"How'd she look?"

Ryan gave a half-shrug before slightly nodding. "She looked good."

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Marissa twirled her spoon around in her ice cream sundae. The longer she took to finish her dessert, the better chance she had of Summer actually showing up to eat with her.

She hated the feeling of sitting by herself in a crowded cafeteria, surrounded by other students joking and conversing happily with their big groups of friends. She could see herself in their eyes: a pathetic, friendless, lonely girl eating all by herself. Marissa had never particularly enjoyed being in public by herself; as far back as she could remember, she'd had someone to accompany her practically everywhere.

First, there had been Summer. In grade school, they swapped sandwiches from their matching Barbie lunch boxes and met each other in the bathroom at designated times throughout the day. Classes were sorted alphabetically, so Cooper and Roberts were never in the same room, but they both knew to ask for permission to use the lavatory at 9:15 on a Monday morning.

As they got a little older, Marissa's boyfriends entered the picture, so Marissa was guaranteed that in the rare event Summer couldn't be somewhere with her, her boyfriend would be. Luke was her arm candy for five years as she discovered the Newport Beach social scene. Then, the summer she turned sixteen, she met Ryan, and her world was turned upside down.

Even at UNC, she'd bonded immediately with her roommate, Astrid, and so had had someone to walk around with, to hang out with, to be seen with. Not that Summer was going to abandon her, or anything. At least, she didn't think so. It was just that…for the first time in Marissa's life, Summer was the one who had the boyfriend, and she was the single friend. Summer had had plenty of boyfriends, but she'd always had one when Marissa had one, too. With the possible exceptions of a few month-long stretches in their sophomore and junior years of high school when Summer had been dating Seth, but Marissa hadn't yet gotten back together with Ryan. But still. Even when those months were happening, she'd sort of known that eventually, she and Ryan would be a couple again. She was anticipating no such reunion this time around.

Marissa was slightly relieved when a petite brunette appeared in the entrance to the cafeteria. Summer spotted her and rushed over to grab a seat across from her.

"Oh my god! Coop! I am _so_ sorry, I don't know why, I just completely forgot…"

"It's okay," Marissa assured her. The fact that Summer was apparently filled with remorse for something as trivial as forgetting a lunch meeting convinced Marissa that her earlier worrying had been for nothing. As her best friend, Summer wasn't going anywhere. "I'm not even finished my dessert yet," she said, pointing to her half-eaten bowl of ice cream. "We've still got some time."

"But you don't hate me for leaving you all alone on your first day here?"

"Yes, Summer, I hate you," Marissa replied sarcastically. "I'm serious," she said, returning to her normal tone, "it's no big deal. _So,_ how's your first day back going?"

"More importantly, how is your first day here going? How was your first class?"

"Um…kind of boring. But I wasn't really paying attention that much."

"Long lectures can be like that sometimes."

"Tell me about it. And oh, Ryan ran into me on my way over there."

She said it matter-of-factly on purpose, to see if Summer noticed anything. At first she didn't, but after about a second, her eyes darted up to Marissa's and she spat out the water she had been drinking.

"_What?_ Like, _Ryan_ Ryan?"

"I only know one Ryan. And when I say 'ran into me,' I really mean 'ran into me.' Like, he bowled me over on my way to French Lit." She eyed Summer suspiciously before continuing. "Sum…"

"Okay, I knew he was here. But – Cohen and I didn't want to freak you guys out by telling you right away. You had enough new stuff to adjust to as it was."

"Well, it would've helped knowing he was here when we collided this morning. He stared at me like I was a ghost. And I acted like a total idiot. I couldn't put two understandable sentences together."

"I'm sorry," Summer said, and Marissa could tell she meant it. "We thought that the chances of you two seeing each other without our help were pretty slim."

"Unfortunately, not slim enough. I mean, I haven't seen or spoken to Ryan in two years, and the first time that I do, we knock each other over. Literally."

"Yeah, not the ideal way to meet him again. I'm gonna go get some ice cream – will you wait here for me?"

Marissa nodded, but she wasn't really focusing on what Summer had said. She was remembering her last meeting with Ryan. Two years and ten days ago.

_She didn't bother waiting for a reply after knocking on the poolhouse door. This was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done in her entire life. She had to get it over with quickly, or her nerves would fail her and she wouldn't do it. And she had to do it._

_He was on his bed when she came in, and she could tell by the way he looked at her that he knew something was wrong. Like it was hard to figure out, with her tear-stained cheeks and her wrinkled, messy clothes._

"_What's wrong?" He asked the question so gently that she wanted to cry. She almost choked as she stepped back, away from his inviting, comforting embrace.. If he touched her one more time, she'd lose her resolve. And he deserved better._

"_I can't do this anymore, Ryan."_

_Introductions were a waste of time. And the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to rush into his arms and sob all over him and hear him tell her that everything was going to be okay. The one thing she couldn't do._

"_Wh-what are you talking about? Please tell me what's wrong. We'll get through it together -"_

"_-No, we won't!" She cut him off. This was killing her. Why did he have to use that word? 'Together?' Images of things they'd gotten through 'together' flashed across her mind: Luke. Her drinking. Oliver. Teresa and the baby. Trey. Her depression. But this was one thing they couldn't get through together. They had to start getting through things by themselves._

"_Why?"_

_The pain was evident in his voice. He knew. She fought against the tears that were brimming beneath her eyes. She had to say it now._

"_I've been seeing someone else."_

_He didn't say anything; he just stared at her. She hurriedly began with her rehearsed explanation, before she had the chance to backtrack on her lie._

"_He's not from Newport. He goes to a different school, so you don't know him, so don't get mad at anyone you know. No one else you know knows about it. I met him over Spring Break that one night when you went out for a guy's night with Seth, and we wound up kissing, and he asked me to see him again. I'm so sorry. Things didn't really work out and I'm not seeing him anymore, but I know I can't keep doing this to you. You deserve better. I think since we're both going away to college next week, we need to meet new people. The best thing is to start over, for both of us."_

_She finally looked up at him, and the betrayal that she saw in his eyes was almost too much to bear. She knew that what she was saying was completely unexpected, and why shouldn't it be? A week ago, the idea of her cheating on Ryan would have been unbelievable to her, too. It still was. But she had to put a limit on the pain she was causing him. She'd convinced herself that it was better to inflict one final heap of pain upon him than to stay with him and give him a lifetime's worth of miseries. And he had no clue that she had murdered not one, but two people he loved._

_She took a deep breath before driving the nail in the coffin._

"_I'm leaving for North Carolina on Saturday. Don't try to contact me."_

_She turned from him and stumbled from the poolhouse half-blindly, as the tears she had been resisting were now gushing out of her eyes. She ran. She ran until she got to her car, sobbing the entire way home and up her elaborate staircase. Throwing herself onto her bed, she drowned her pillow in a sea of tears and misery. Mostly, she wondered. She wondered why, if she had done it for his own good, she still felt so terrible._

"Coop?"

Summer had returned with a large bowl of chocolate ice cream, and was studying her with a slightly worried expression.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Marissa replied, snapping back to the present. "I'm fine."


	6. The Concert

A/N: I know I said this before the last chapter, but it's pretty important, so I'm going to say it again: Trust me. Not that you guys don't, or anything like that – not at all. It's just, I'm planning on this being a really, _really_ long fic – at least 25 chapters, if not more. Stick with me. At times it's going to seem like I hate Ryan and Marissa, and that I actually enjoy keeping them separated in my story for as long as possible. This is not the case. I know exactly where I want this story to end up, and I have a pretty good idea of how to get it there. It's just going to take a while. Honestly, I can't wait to actually post the penultimate chapter- the big climax of the fic. I've got it all writtenout in my head. And I promise you, if you are any kind of an R/M fan, it will bring you to your knees. But hang in there for me until I make it there. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, and please continue to R&R!

Disclaimer: Everything that you think doesn't belong to me, doesn't belong to me. No lawsuits, please. It would be pointless to sue me for anything, because I wouldn't have any money to give you.

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**Chapter 6**

This. Was. So. Awkward.

Ryan was hunched over the railing on the top floor of Troubadour, listening to the band below him whine about improperly named glove compartments.

And trying to ignore Sethummer, directly to his left, cuddling and flirtatiously bickering and forgetting that he even existed, let alone that he was standing next to them.

And trying even harder to ignore Marissa, who was positioned on his right and hadn't thought of a thing to say to him since they'd gotten there besides the customary, "Hi, Ryan."

Currently, Sethummer's conversation was invading his left eardrum, so he found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"Seth, move your arm! I can't see!"

"_Shhh, _Summer! I can't hear Death Cab!"

"Seth, the music is so loud they can probably hear it in Hawaii."

"Well, I like it that way so I can appreciate all the finer subtleties of the music."

"We've been listening to their music for the past hour."

"Yes, and it's been the greatest hour of my life."

"I thought that the greatest hour of your life was when we had our upside-down kiss in the rain."

"I changed my mind."

Summer drove her elbow into Seth's stomach directly behind her.

"_Okay,"_ he wheezed, clutching his gut, "_I changed my mind back."_

Ryan rolled his eyes and tried focusing his attention on the lyrics of the song that was playing all around them.

_Sometimes it seems that I don't have the skills to recollect_

_The twists and turns that turned us from lovers to friends_

_I'm thinking I should take that volume back up off the shelf_

_And crack its weary spine and read to help remind myself_

Terrific. A song about remembering a breakup. Just what he wanted to hear when Marissa was standing next to him, not speaking to him. Involuntarily, he shot a sideways glance at her, and their eyes met briefly before quickly darting off in other directions. He would've been able to shrug it off if he hadn't known that she was thinking the same thing he was thinking. _This song could be about us._

_But if I move my place in line, I'll lose_

_And I have waited, the anticipation's got me glued_

_I am waiting for something to go wrong_

_I am waiting for familiar resolve_

_I am waiting for another repeat_

_Another diet fed by crippling defeat_

A small part of him was dying to talk to her. To ask her what she'd been doing for two years without him. To ask her why things between them ended the way they did. To ask her what she thought of him now. To ask her why she'd thrown away what they'd had. Because he wasn't sure, but he'd thought that what they'd had was…different, somehow. Special. He guessed that he had been wrong.

A larger part of him was really wishing she had just stayed on the East Coast. Things would've been a hell of a lot less complicated.

_And I am waiting for that sense of relief_

_I am waiting for you to flee this scene_

_As if you held in your hand a smoking gun_

_And on the floor laid the one you said you loved_

He felt Marissa tense up next to him, and wasn't surprised to discover that he was contracting his muscles and holding his breath. The lyrics hit way too close to home.

Ryan's long-dormant habit of protectiveness stirred, and he looked to his right to see if Marissa was okay.

She was gone.

He turned his body around just in time to see her long, dirty blonde hair fleeing down the steps of the club. Fleeing the unwelcome memories.

He paused for a moment, waiting for Seth and Summer to notice.

They didn't.

Ryan hesitated a bit more, then released his ironclad grip on the railing to follow her.

He pushed his way through the throngs of people with their eyes fixed on the stage, smiling and enjoying the music and not considering the possibility that the words could be more than abstract musings, that they could be real to someone.

_And it's strange that they're all basically the same_

_So I don't ask names anymore_

Ryan stepped out the door into the warm night air, his eyes scanning Santa Monica Boulevard for any signs of Marissa. He set off down the street, picking up his pace as he went, his anxiety increasing with every step. Hollywood was no place for a defenseless 20-year-old girl to go wandering around at night.

To his relief, he eventually found her alone in an alley near the club, sitting on the gravel pavement with her back slumped against a wall. He was immediately flooded with concern. Marissa would never sit down in a dirty alley. At least, not when he'd known her.

She looked up at him as he approached her, but for some reason, she didn't seem surprised to see him there. "Hey," she intoned blandly, with an expression he couldn't read.

"Hey," he replied, not taking his eyes off her.

"You found me." He took a seat next to her.

"I seem to be pretty good at finding you in alleys."

She looked over at him with the smallest hint of a smile, then quickly erased it and went back to staring blankly ahead of her.

He realized his mistake too late. _Great job, Ryan,_ he thought. _As if she needs any more reminders of traumatic experiences right now. Why don't you rehash the Oliver debacle and her mom's affair with Luke, while you're at it?_ He could hear Seth in his head, proclaiming him the recipient of the "Sensitive Guy of the Year Award."

They sat in silence for a little while. Ryan had no idea what to say, or what to do, and Marissa wasn't giving him any helpful hints.

He used to be an expert at this sort of thing. When they were dating, he could read her like an open book when she was upset. He would always know if she needed him to stroke her hair, or pull her into an affectionate hug, or simply hold her, or talk to her, or give her a reassuring kiss, or some combination of the above. He'd known that on some level, he was her Knight in Shining Armor, and he'd sort of embraced it. It was nice to be needed.

Now they were complete strangers, and the only thing they had in common was the past. A past he didn't feel like revisiting. Still, he was somewhat taken aback that he didn't know how to help her. He wasn't used to it. But he had the feeling that she wanted him to do more than just sit there. Thinking that any physical gestures of intimacy would probably be inappropriate, he opted to talk to her.

"So…" he began. She didn't follow his lead. "…you okay?"

"I guess," she responded vaguely.

He waited for her to say more, but it didn't come. Just as he cringed at the prospect of thinking of something else to say, she spoke up.

"I forgot about that song. I haven't listened to that album in forever."

"Don't really listen to Death Cab much. Music in general is not really my thing."

"Nah, your thing is punching people." First she chuckled at her joke, then swallowed nervously as she realized the potential awkwardness of that statement.

"Haven't punched anyone in a long time," he said, sealing her embarrassment.

They sat. Occasionally he shifted his position, but she didn't move. If her eyes hadn't been open, he would've thought she had fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly.

He was about to tell her that it was okay, when it occurred to him that he had no clue what she was apologizing for. She could be saying sorry for a million different things. So, he sought clarification.

"What for?" He hoped that the casual way in which he phrased the question hid the fact that he desperately wanted to know the answer.

"For ending things the way I did."

He sucked in a long, slow breath. He hadn't expected her to bring _that_ up. He smiled sadly, slowly shaking his head from side to side. She was unbelievable. "So that's it?"

"What's it?"

"We haven't seen in each other in two years, and when we do, you just expect a 'sorry' to make everything better?"

"I didn't say that, that's not what I meant, I just…wanted us to have a chance at being friends again, I guess."

"Friends?" he echoed in disbelief. "_Friends?_ You said it yourself at the Kickoff Carnival. We were never just friends."

"Well, I mean, wasn't that all a long time ago? Haven't we both grown up a little since then? Haven't we gotten over it?"

_No._

"I…dunno," he answered, staring at the ground. "It was kind of a big deal. We dated for a pretty long time."

Marissa gathered her thoughts before replying. "Look, I know…that I hurt you," she said delicately.

_The understatement of the century._

"But…" she went on, "I meant it when I said I was sorry. And let's put it in perspective – we were in high school. How many people find their soulmates when they're sixteen? Did we really think we were going to stay together forever?"

_Maybe_, he thought. _But I guess I was wrong on that one, too._

"I guess you're right," he conceded, twisting the palm on his right hand up slightly and bringing it back down on top of his left. She was correct on at least a few things. It had been a long time ago. And they had been, what, eighteen when they broke up? Had he been foolish to think their relationship had really been that serious?

"So, does that mean we can be friends? Or at least…try? For Seth and Summer," she added as an afterthought, though he doubted that this was really about Seth and Summer's happiness.

Somehow, he didn't think that was such a good idea. Some inner siren was blaring in his brain, telling him that pursuing a friendship with Marissa Cooper was as emotionally dangerous as crossing over a river full of crocodiles on a broken-down bridge. But then he caught a glimpse of her expression.

He raised his eyes from the pavement and saw that her face had been overtaken by an unbearable expectancy. She was watching him with a strange combination of anticipation and eagerness and loneliness. She just looked so…hopeful. And he found that he didn't have the heart to turn her down.

"Ok," he agreed quietly, dipping his head into a tiny nod.

She smiled for the first time that evening, and settled back against the wall, satisfied. "Good. It'll be a challenge, you know. But I'm up for it if you are." She raised the pitch of her voice slightly as she said the last few words. It kind of reminded him of the way she'd said, '_I'll go if you go'_ before Cotillion.

_What the hell_, he thought. _If I'm going to do this thing, I might as well go the whole nine yards. _"I'm up for it."

"You know, it could turn out to be fun."

"Fun?"

"Oh, that's right. You usually don't think anything's fun." She pushed his shoulder playfully.

"Hey!" Ryan started to protest, but was interrupted by a loud screeching coming from the entrance to the alleyway.

"Ryan? MARISSA?" Summer was running toward them as fast as her 3-inch heels could carry her. Which was not fast. Seth seemed to have noticed this, and was trailing behind her, walking at a steady pace but pretty much keeping up with her.

"Uh-oh," Marissa muttered to Ryan. "She's using our first names. That's not a good sign."

"She still calls you 'Coop?'"

"Uh-huh."

"Some things never change."

Marissa laughed appreciatively as Summer stopped in front of them, looking extremely pissed off.

"You guys! What are you _doing_ here? We have been looking all _over_ for you! Why didn't you answer your cells? We left, like, 50 messages!"

Ryan pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and opened it. Summer hadn't been exaggerating; the screen read, "You have **35** new messages." Whoops. His cell must have been on "Silence All."

"Sorry, Sum." Marissa apologized for both of them, because Ryan was doing his best not to laugh and was failing miserably, so he pretended he had suddenly been overtaken by a violent fit of coughing. Honestly, _thirty-five_ messages?

"You have _no idea_ how worried we were! We -"

"Summer, calm down." Seth cut her off. "Sorry about the rage blackout, guys," he deadpanned to Ryan and Marissa.

Summer whacked him with her purse.

"_What?_ Chill out, woman! You sound exactly like my mother! Look, Ryan's a big boy. Marisaa's a b-" Seth faltered, noticing the glare Marissa had fixed him with. "Okay, Marissa's a _skinny_ girl, but Ryan's still a big boy. They can take care of themselves. Or each other."

Ryan gulped and tried to look anywhere but at Marissa. _Great wording, Seth._

"Okay, so that didn't come out right, I just meant -"

"Cohen." Seth opened his mouth to say something again, but took the hint from Summer and decided to close it. She turned back to her two friends on the ground. "Please promise me that the next time you guys decide to go wandering around in a big city, you'll let us know beforehand or give us some way of contacting you so we don't die of heart attacks before we're thirty."

"Yeah," Seth interjected, "considering that I want to have at least seven kids, we wanna live past thirty, because if we start when we're twenty-five and Summer dies when she's thirty, we can only really have five kids. Unless, of course, she has a couple sets of twins, or-"

"Cohen." Summer pulled out her 'Oh-my-god-you-should-have-stopped-talking-five-minutes-ago' stare and used it on Seth. Apparently he got the message, because he shut up.

"Anyway," Summer began more nicely, "the concert's not over yet, if you guys want to go back in…"

Ryan glanced at Marissa. Her eyes had glazed over, and she was biting her bottom lip. "I think we would rather just go home," he answered for her.

"Okay. Whatever you guys want to do." While Summer was fine with their decision, Seth seemed less than okay with bailing on Death Cab, but he followed Summer as she started out of the alley. Ryan stood up. Marissa remained sitting, doing a very realistic zombie imitation.

Ryan held out his hand for her. "Come on." She reached up and took it, and didn't let go once she was on her feet. Her palm was warm and smooth, just the way he remembered it being. And there was something slightly scary about the way it still seemed to fit perfectly in his.

They held hands for the entire duration of the walk back to their car. He spent most of that time wondering why he was holding her hand in the first place. Was he trying to reassure her, or to offer her comfort? Was he worried that she would be offended if he pulled away? Was he trying to prove to her and to himself that he was going to try to make an effort with this "friends" thing?

Finally, he gave up analyzing it to death and concluded that it didn't really matter why her delicate fingers were still wrapped around his. He'd forgotten how nice something as simple as holding hands could be.

And holding hands with Marissa was nice.


End file.
